


lighting up brimstone

by deniigiq



Series: Dumpster Fires Verse [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Bad-Decision Sex, Emotions, M/M, Matt is a mystery wrapped in an enigma, Peter should be protected at all costs, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Red, Wade's POV, also a lying liar who lies, anger issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 10:56:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14669658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deniigiq/pseuds/deniigiq
Summary: "I guess that means that whatever happened to him probably happened when he was Daredevil and probably happened with the last person he was with,” Spidey looked at him calmly, “And you just said that that was you.”They grow up so fast. He was going to have to kill this child one day.He tossed up his hands.“We fucked,” he announced.





	lighting up brimstone

**Author's Note:**

> Matt and Wade have Bad Decision sex in this, this is fair warning. They aren't a couple though, more like reluctant friends with benefits.
> 
> I haven't written anything from Wade's POV yet and so this is my attempt.

Wade spent his time doing important work. This occasionally included researching and analyzing his teammates. Not because he didn’t trust them, but because he didn’t trust them. It wasn’t anything personal.

He just liked to have information at the ready in case one of those fuckers decided to turn on him. He did it for every team he joined, it was nothing special to Team Red.

Although between the two of them on Team Red, it would be Red who turned on him first, he knew it. Felt it in his bones.

Spidey trusted him like a Labrador retriever trusts its human. Stupidly, but extremely endearing. Earnest and endearing to the point that it triggered some feelings Wade thought had buried themselves under one of the many rocks in his consciousness.

Wade Wilson was hilarious, clever, unpredictable, inspiring, and just generally a delight to be around, but he was seldom a mama bear. He generally didn’t give a shit what people did in their time away from him, but the idea of Spidey running around the city, potentially crashing into _his_ baddies made his heart do a weird thing which he didn’t fucking like.

The weird thing happened often around Spidey because the damn kid was always _so_ happy to see him and equally happy to provide help where he could. It was, and Wade did not use the phrase lightly, heartbreaking. He wasn’t a fucking idiot. He knew that Spidey was a kid, a real kid, a ‘no alcohol, no bars, no smoking’ kid. He had zero business being around Deadpool and the type of shit Deadpool got up to and he had no business being around Wade either. But it was hard not to be drawn towards that kind of enthusiasm and affection when his presence made most people grimace and walk the other way.

He wondered if he could persuade Red into having a ‘Deadpool is very dangerous and should not be trusted’ talk with the kid because he sure as fuck couldn’t do it. Spidey needed to learn how to guard himself.

Red, though. Red was something else. When the kid wasn’t with them, he was a whole lot more aggressive. Wade thought he’d just been going through a rough patch or something in his real life the first few times he was witness to the unbridled Daredevil, but he soon realized that no. Red just reigned himself in around the kid, trying not to scare him. Trying to hold him at arm’s length, to protect both of them from himself.

When Spidey wasn’t there, Daredevil was a whole lot more interesting.

They’d fucked. Red was upset about something in real life and he was horny and they were both consenting adults. It was just sex. And Red was oh, so good at it.

He liked it rough. Well, he either liked it rough or he decided that sex was a better course of action than trying to finish the fight he’d picked against Deadpool in that alley immediately after Wade had bodily dragged him off the imminent corpse of a child rapist. The fucker was lucky, ambulance got there just in time.

Red was furious. And horrified. And pissed. And repentant. Except not at fucking all. He’d wanted to kill that man, and he’d wanted to make it last. Make it hurt. It didn’t take a genius to make the connection.

Red told him to get fucked when he voiced this thought. Wade might then have said something smart, something like “Too soon, got it.” And Red might have hurled every atom in his body into Wade and started trying to pound him into the brick wall behind them.

See? Much more interesting.

But anger also made Red sloppy. If he hadn’t been drowning in whatever he was trying to claw his way out of, he probably could have done some actual damage. But as it were, Wade was bigger than him in pounds and inches. He caught one fist and threw Red against the wall in half nelson. Pinned him with a knee and gave him an opportunity to calm the fuck down and think about all his options for getting home alive that night, and honestly, Wade was basically Father Christmas for it. The patience, the benevolence. He was getting soft in his old age.

Red chose poorly. It took some manhandling and some accidental choking (he was just trying to muffle the guy’s shouts, _really_ ) and some serious damage to Wade’s fingers and nose to nudge him in the right direction. The nudge wasn’t quite enough. Red was wriggly, and he would _not_ pass the fuck out. Wade really didn’t want to hurt him (well, hurt him according to their scale of hurt) because whatever had happened back there had come obviously from a place of pain, but he did need him to calm the fuck down and think rationally about what he was doing.

He ended up flipping the guy back over and pinning both his wrists to the wall this time. He pressed their heads together so Red couldn’t do any more damage to his nose. It worked maybe 40%. Turned out Daredevil had hips. And knees. And absolutely no qualms about ball-shots. That was Wade’s bad, though, he shouldn’t have let his guard down.

He still got a little. Huh. Frustrated. With the guy’s lack of gratitude. If he’d let him kill that motherfucker like he apparently wanted to, it would have brought nothing but regret. That was inconvenient for Red, but more importantly, it was inconvenient for Deadpool because the mission Deadpool had been cooking up for the last two weeks very much included Red’s hot little booty doing some very important listening for bombs.

Anyways, he laid a few on Double D to help him think a bit. The last one put him on the ground, into a pile of broken glass and trash and grit. The threat of tetanus sobered him up a little. The massive hunk of glass jutting out of his elbow helped. But neither was quite enough to take the fight out of him.

Wade climbed over him and grabbed what he could of his head to hold him steady. He was reaching the point of irritation which involved putting Red down for a nap and dumping his ass on a bus for a while when he pulled up a little too slowly and the helmet came clean off. It had the desired effect of dropping, and subsequently cracking, Red’s head on the pavement and the undesired effect of revealing the pain on that pretty face.

Oh also he was blind.

Red tried very hard to play it off, attempting to glare Wade down even from laying flat on his back. But his eyes didn’t quite hit the right point on Wade’s mask. They occasionally slid away too, like Red wasn’t used to focusing on one thing for long. It was like that one time Wade couldn’t decide whether or not to hit that girl to find Francis all over again.

Was it ableist to beat the shit out of a blind vigilante or ableist/patronizing not to beat shit out of a blind vigilante? Red seemed to know the second the thought registered in his head because he set to fighting all over again with about three times more enthusiasm. It was a different kind of fighting. It was ‘get off me, I’m super vulnerable’ fighting, not ‘get off me, I fucking hate you’ fighting.

Wade’s heart did the thing.

Daredevil did not like that the heart did the thing and told Wade to shove his fucking pity where the sun don’t shine. He told Wade to fuck off more times in those few minutes than Wade had heard him use the phrase to date.

Wade let him wear himself out and then wear himself calm. Only after Red seemed to finally notice and appreciate the hunk of glass in his forearm did Wade climb off him. He didn’t really know what to do or how to handle the situation after that. He stood up and offered a hand to Red to help him up, but then wondered if that wasn’t rude or something. Red ignored it and used the wall to help himself stand up.

He was almost too pretty. The jaw everyone knew led up to strong cheekbones. Strong eyebrows with the fine lines of crow’s feet under them. His eyes were a mix of dark and light and, even if he could have found it, he seemed disinclined to look for Wade’s face then. He kept those eyes pointed down, at the ground. Upset. Ashamed. Maybe a little scared.

He made to leave, to leap up onto a fire-escape, but Wade realized he was still holding the helmet and he reached out and grabbed Red’s elbow. Red aborted his jump and jerked his arm out of Wade’s grip.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snarled.

“Sure, okay.  I’ll just keep this then,” Wade chirped in response.

Red wavered. He turned around and grabbed for the helmet. Wade’s hindbrain took control of his arm and pulled it out of reach, which he realized, was even more fucked up now that he knew Red couldn’t see it. He held it out apologetically. Red grimaced at him and reached for it again, but Wade’s brain got stuck on the fact that letting him have it might have come across as pity, so he yanked it out of reach again.

“The fuck do you want from me?” Red snapped, “You’ve got it now. Daredevil’s deep dark secret. You can sell it to whoever it is you spend time with. Go ahead, write it on the fucking walls. See if I care; I’m not going to stop.”

Wade didn’t really know what he wanted, so he shrugged and then decided that he wanted to kick himself for shrugging. He shook his head and held out the helmet one last time. Red was suspicious; he cut his eyes at him.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Wade tried to assure him. He reached for the helmet cautiously, plucked it out of Wade’s hands, and held it to his chest with both hands, staring down at it. Blood dripped off the glass in his elbow.

“Thanks,” he said softly. Then made to leave.

“Is it more ableist to hit you or not hit you?” Wade called after his retreating back. Red huffed a tiny laugh.

“For me? Not to.”

“Okay, cool. Good to know.”

Red stopped in his tracks and turned around, eyes searching for Wade. He tilted his head slowly. Then, incongruously, he smirked.

“Like what you see?”

Huh. Interesting. How the fuck could he know that.

“Might.”

Red seemed to know something for sure; he went still for a moment, staring down at the helmet in his hands and thinking. His smirk bloomed into a wicked grin.

“You feel guilty.”

How the fuck did he do that. Wade didn’t say anything, just waited.

“Tell you what. Why don’t you make it up to me?”

Very interesting.

“Go on.”

“Pull this shit out of my arm, and I’ll take you for a ride.”

Wow, talk about a change of gears. Hot, though. Slightly unsettling. Probably unhealthy. Still hot.

“You sure you’re in a decision-making state, Red?” he asked, just to be sure. Red gave a tiny shrug.

“My life is catastrophically, abysmally fucked right now. One more bad decision won’t put me over the edge.”

Wade knew intimately what it felt like for life to be catastrophically, abysmally fucked.

 

 

Red gasped hard against Wade’s mouth while they fucked, harder than he’d gasped when Wade had liberated his glass companion. He was about equally squirmy fucking as when fighting and Wade was pleased to find that it was much, much more tolerable when there were dicks involved.

Red kissed hard. He was a biter. Not much of a moaner. He was insistent and persistent. He wrapped his legs firmly around Wade’s waist and growled at him periodically to move harder and faster. His ass was a thing of beauty. The tiny line of freckles under his right cheek put it over the top.

Wade knew he was getting somewhere when Red stopped touching himself and started gasping faster and pressing his face into his neck. He pressed down on Wade’s cock and whimpered so softly and sweetly against Wade’s throat that he felt his heart do the thing again, right there in the middle of sex. The contrast between the noise and the power in Red’s abs and thighs went right to Wade’s dick, and he decided that first, he’d get Red to make that noise a few more times, and then he’d make him make a new, whole lot louder one.

It was a good plan. He angled himself just so and was rewarded with the whimper twice in a row.

Red hiccupped into his neck, then snapped, “Again.”

Wade gave him a particularly hard thrust and he ground down and buried his face under Wade’s ear. It shouldn’t have been as sweet as it was. He buried a hand into Red’s thick hair and gave him another deep thrust. Red got the shakes, clenched his thighs, and dug his heels into Wade’s back. On the second deep thrust, he made a choked off noise and arched up, pressing their chests together. Wade followed him close behind. They collapsed into a mess of scarred limbs.

After a few moments, he pushed himself off of Red and went to find something to clean up with. Double D stayed laying down for another minute or so; he was flushed and sleepy and the bandage Wade had taped to his elbow was soaked with blood. He sat up tiredly and took a moment to collect himself. He accepted the wet paper towel Wade offered him, cleaned up, and then reached over and started collecting his clothes, tugging them on as he found them.

Wade considered re-wrapping his elbow, but before he could say anything, Red dragged the armor back over it and it was out of sight.

“Thanks,” he said, grabbing his helmet on the way out the door. “You’re a good ride.”

“Anytime, pal. You just let me know if you have any other anger issues you need to work out on my dick,” he retorted. Red chuckled, waved a little, and closed the door behind him.

 

 

Daredevil fell off his radar for a bit after that. Wade got the feeling that he was working hard to put his catastrophically fucked life back together. He also knew that, despite his bravado, Red was terrified how Deadpool was going to treat him now that he knew about the blindness.

And honestly? That was fair. He didn’t quite know if he should pretend things were how they had been before or if he should do the slightly less assholish thing and do things like, I dunno, fucking describe the targets or the terrain. He didn’t want to put Spidey on the scent, though. The kid was fucking sharp. He probably collected little scraps of words and pauses and gestures in that head of his and secretly knew everything about his and Red’s lives.

Precious, terrifying child.

Maybe he needed to reevaluate. Maybe Spidey was going to be the first to turn on him.

The day that happened, he’d be so fucking proud.

 

 

It happened much sooner than he expected. Spidey dragged him into a thing against a lizard man in the sewers. It was disgusting and the type of thing Spidey was a magnet for. Deadpool provided some strategic menacing, tracking, and distraction support. He might have found a sledgehammer and sent the lizard man’s many (Jesus H. Christ so many) children swarming in a green-scaled road right to their leader. Spidey worked his tiny scarlet ass off after that and by the end of it, the lizard man was a lizard no more and was taken into custody.

Spidey thanked him with hugs and tacos. Wade had a sneaking suspicion that the kid was domesticating him and acted out a few times to test it. Spidey gave him weird looks and told him to eat his damn tacos.

“You seen Double D around lately?” he asked of the blue.

“Nah, last I saw of him, he,” _was growling and putting those pretty hips to good use_ “said he had some shit he needed to take care of. That was about two weeks back.”

Spidey hummed and carried on picking cilantro out of his burrito. He thought it was rude to ask the lady not to put it in his food when he could just as easily pick it out later. Wade wanted to tell him that he wasn’t enough of a dick for the lady to consider that an inconvenience, but he didn’t because he wasn’t the kid’s mom.

“Did you do something to him?” Spidey asked.

“The fuck?” was the only thing Wade could come up with because he was suddenly preoccupied with the horrifying thought that Spidey’s powers might include _mind reading holy fuck if there is a god please show yourself NOW._

“Why would I do something to him?” he said instead, “I mean, besides the usual stuff I do to him.” Like tapping on his helmet and trying to wriggle fingers into the gaps of his armor. He hated that, and Wade treasured any moment he could break that composure.

“I dunno, it’s just. Double D’s got routines, you know? He never comes out on Sunday. Never comes out before five, always goes home around three. He’s never gone for more than three consecutive days. He works in an office. So like, his day job isn’t or it doesn’t seem like it’s putting him in mortal danger. I guess that means that whatever happened to him probably happened when he was Daredevil and probably happened with the last person he was with,” Spidey looked at him calmly, “And you just said that that was you.” 

They grow up so fast. He was going to have to kill this child one day.

He tossed up his hands.

“We fucked,” he announced. Spidey stared at him for so long in such shock that he dropped the remaining half of his burrito.

“You _what._ ”

“Fucked? Had sex? Made love? Actually no, definitely not love. He’s not the lovey type, more like a hold me down and fuck me ‘til I cry kind of—”

“Please stop,” Spidey whimpered, putting his burrito-less hands over his face. “Why, _why_ would you two do that?”

Wade shrugged.

“Guy’s working through some shit. He offered. I would be fool to ignore that sweet, sweet ass when laid in front of me, and Mama ain’t raise no fool.”

Spidey continued to look horrified.

“What do you want me to say, kid? Sometimes people have bad-decision sex. I didn’t force him or anything. Wholly consensual. Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers to demonstrate. In hindsight, that was probably not an opportune innuendo, but Spidey didn’t seem to notice the implication, so he left it. Spidey collected the remnants of his burrito from the ground and stuffed them into the paper bag it came in for later disposal. He paused.

“I just. I just didn’t think about it, I guess. I thought. I thought Double D wasn’t interested in that kind of thing.”

“Oh no, he’s interested,” Wade snickered, “I think he’s usually just pretty, uh, focused on his crusade against whatever. With a face like that, he probably gets plenty of ass in real life.”

Spidey whipped toward him.

“You saw his face?”

Oh shit. Oh fuck. See, this was the problem. The kid was definitely smarter than him and 100% manipulating him into spilling the beans. Betrayal. Absolutely betrayal and he _knew_ it would end this way.

“Hey, what do you think about birds, huh? Think you’ll get a bird-man next—”

“Wade. You saw his face.”

Wow those distraction skills had really taken a nose-dive lately. He needed to work on that.

“A little bit? Not very much, we kind started from behind and then—”

“Wade.”

“Okay, less details, got it. Yes. Saw his face. He’s cute. Looks kind of like a kicked puppy.”

Spidey did not need to know the details leading up to this encounter. Red didn’t want him to know anything about his face, but he sure as fuck didn’t want him to know about that time he almost beat a pedophile to death in an alley behind a bar. It would do a number on the whole ‘don’t kill’ image.

“Is he okay?”

“Sorry, what?”

“Like a kicked puppy. He doesn’t sound okay. Was he okay when you left?”

“Woah, woah, woah, kiddo. Making assumptions much. I didn’t leave, he left. And yeah, he was fine.”

“Wade,” that tone was far too reasonable for someone still in high school. Where did he learn it from? Was it Stark? Couldn’t be Stark, ‘reasonable’ wasn’t anywhere in or around any description of Stark. “Was he fine? Or was he ‘fine’?”

Wade sighed. He didn’t like teams for this exact reason. Feelings. Concerns. People giving a shit about other people. But Spidey gave a lot to him and Red gave to him in his own way. He didn’t like to be the only one sitting in the red.

“Fuck. Ugh. Okay, fine. But if you tell him I told you this, I will literally cut your balls off, understood?”

Spidey nodded rapidly.

“Ugh,” he groaned, “He said his life was, and I quote, ‘catastrophically, abysmally fucked.’ He got into it with a guy last time we went out hunting. Took it a little too farther than usual. Shit happened. I tried to mitigate the situation and we ended up in a, uh. Compromising situation. Before the other compromising situation. I know something now and I think he’s scared I might use it against him, which might be why he’s avoiding us. Or,” he decided brightly, “Everything is absolutely fine and he’s just taking a break to get his shit together.”

“You know that he’s blind?” Spidey asked like punch to the gut.

“Sorry what,” Wade said, “ _You_ know he’s blind?”

“Yeah, I’ve been to his office, he—Did he not tell you this?”

That little fucker was playing both of them. How many faces do you have, Daredevil?

“No. Speak, child,” he said trying to keep his tone light. Spidey hesitated.

“He will kill me if I tell you.”

“I’ll protect you, baby boy. Talk.” Spidey knew that between them, Deadpool had half the conscious and twice the initiative to make that happen.

“He’s a lawyer in Hell’s Kitchen. Helped me and my aunt out with the eviction thing. He’s really nice in person, DP. Like, super nice. He even gave me a hug. He also can’t see anything, like he’s got a. What’s it called? White cane with a thing on the end?”

“He uses a stick.”

“Sure. And everything in his office is in braille. He showed me how he uses his screen reader on our notice and he’s got a special laptop and stuff. I’ve been trying to figure out how to make a tablet for him that isn’t like, a pain in the ass to use ‘cause one of his clients gave him one as a gift and he says he’s tried to give it back twice, but she won’t take it.”

Wade sat back and tried to sort through the many feelings he was having. Violent, hateful, aggressive, casual-rough-sex Red. Was some kind of bleeding heart, blind lawyer. Apparently a _nice_ and _gentle_ human being. Who couldn’t accept gifts because wow, no ma’am, I’m just doing my job.

He called bullshit. He called bullshit so hard. He started laughing at how hard he called bullshit.

Spidey did not think this was an appropriate reaction.

“Wade, you’re not listening. When I talked to him, he was fine. He was—”

“Kid, don’t you get it? Red’s putting on an act around you. He’s toning it down, pulling his punches, Spidey. He sure as fuck isn’t going to tell you what’s going on in his life. Fucking ‘fine,’ my ass.”

Spidey seemed genuinely upset about this. Wade reeled it in and settled down. He bumped his shoulder into Spidey’s.

“Hey, it’s fine. He doesn’t owe us shit,” he tried to soothe.

“I’m going to his office,” Spidey declared. Wade felt his stomach drop.

“What.”

“I’m going to his office.”

“No, no. I heard you. I just think that’s a terrible fucking idea. And I know a thing or two about terrible fucking ideas.”

“I don’t care. I want to check on him. He can be mad. He’s not gonna hit me, apparently. We need to make a group chat or something for this kind of thing in future.”

The thing about being on a super team with Spidey was that when you weren’t fighting, you were constantly reminded of just how fucking old you were. He did taxes for fuck’s sake. On the kitchen table, sobbing into a calculator and guzzling a bottle of Jack, but _still_. Taxes. Adulthood. He was basically a crypt-keeper compared to the kid. The up-side of that kind of thing meant that you had some perspective. Specifically, you had perspective into things like when to mind your own fucking business.

Spidey stood up and Wade tripped him so he went back down.

“Dude, what the hell?” Spidey demanded.

“Kid you ever had someone break into your house?” he asked. Spidey shook his head and staggered back up. Wade hooked his foot around his shin and brought him down again. “Car? Locker? Diary? No?”

He pulled Spidey down for the third time and got a nasty “WADE” in response.

“Ever been in an apple store and forgot to log out of your facebook and had some asshole start fucking around on your page?” Wade was that asshole every time.

Spidey stopped and thought about it.

“Uh, kind of.”

“Didn’t feel great, did it?”

“I guess.”

“Someone dicking around on in all your shit. Going through all your old photos to make your profile pic the one of you drunk off your tits at your high school reunion?” Everyone had a drunk off your tits picture, it was just a matter of finding it.

“Dude, no.”

“No, it didn’t feel good?”

“Sure, whatever, just stop talking about boobs.”

Wade leaned forward on his knees sagely to school this young-un.

“Imagine someone going through all your old photos and reading every caption, Spidey. You ain’t know what they’re looking for, but you sure as fuck don’t want them to find it. Imagine it’s your mom or something and she thinks your boyfriend is bad for you, so she’s looking for a pic of him and that girl he cheated on you with. Like, she’s well-meaning and all, but fuck, mom. Let me find out he’s cheating on me through Becky like everyone else at school, god.”

Spidey pulled his legs across each other and stared into his lap.

“So we should just leave Double D alone?” he asked. The tiny Deadpool in Wade’s brain cheered uproariously in success.

“Bingo! Yahtzee! A+, kiddo!”

“But, he could be--?”

“Yeah, he could be, but who the fuck are we to stick our noses in it? For all we know his aunt died or something and it’s not like anything we do can help that. And you know Double D. If there is an emotion to repress, he’s on it like white on fucking rice.”

Spidey wasn’t happy to let this go, but Wade was vindicated in the certainty that he wasn’t about to go breaking down any doors right then and there. Really, even if he did eventually go down that route, as long it was far away from Wade’s presence, that was his prerogative, and not Wade’s problem.

Red owed him big time.

 

 

August brought with it the wheezing remains of a heat wave and a huge man trying to crack Daredevil’s head open like a melon. Aw, he’d missed the guy and his flavor of gritty, grimy baddies. Red put up a decent fight for the first two or three minutes, but then that motherfucker brought out a sledgehammer and Deadpool made the executive decision to call Spidey to help him run interference.

The guy was a huge piece of shit and he was very, very determined that Red wasn’t going to get up. They tried to remove Red from the situation, so as to confuse the angry beast with a lesson in object impermanence.

But, true to his brand, Red wasn’t interested in running away. He was interested in getting the fuck back up.

This so incensed the neighborhood Orc that he lost the ability to distinguish between the many red suits around him and charged right into one of Deadpool’s blades.

He did not get up.

Red was furious. And horrified. And pissed. And crushed. And so fucking tired. He took the news with a sigh and he said a prayer for the guy’s soul. Then he called a friend of his on the burner phone he carried around with him and passed out on the pavement.

 

 

He wasn’t out for more than a few minutes, despite Spidey’s panic attack. He woke up and let Wade haul him into a sitting position in an alley while they waited for his friend to come drag his sorry ass home.

“Hey, buddy, we missed you!” Wade chirruped when he was more or less upright. Red chuckled through the blood streaming down his mouth.

“Missed you, too. Been a little busy.” Spidey cocked his head in interest. Although it could equally have been shock. Getting personal information out of Red was usually like pulling teeth with a hammer.

“Still on damage control?” Wade offered magnanimously. Red chuckled again.

“Found out it works best if you get down on your knees.”

“Why Daredevil, are you propositioning me?”

Red managed to grow the chuckle into a laugh that time. Spidey’s head bounced between the two of them like he’d never seen a civil conversation in his life.

“More like, I begged for another chance and no one is immune to the puppy eyes.” No one except an Orc with a sledgehammer. Wade benevolently didn’t mention it.

“Oh? Any conditions attached?”

Red scowled.

“Therapy. And feelings talks. Regular ones.”

“No shit, man.”

“I know.”

Wade patted his shoulder sympathetically. Spidey was rigid and so, so confused. It was adorable. He was like a dog that didn’t know where the ball went.

A gal showed up in a hoodie a few minutes later and hauled Red up.

“Two weeks, asshole,” she spat, “Two weeks and you’re back at it like a fucking moron.”

Red grinned at her good-naturedly. It looked suspiciously like flirting to Wade. He made a note to flirt viciously with Red in future to see how he handled it.

“Uh-uh. Nope, don’t give me that shit. A deal’s a deal. As soon as we get back, I’m calling Nelson so he can guilt-trip you into oblivion.”

“Oh good,” Red said, “It’ll be just like church.”

 

 

He and Red fucked a few more times, then out of nowhere (as was the way with Red) he called it off and said he and his bestie were a thing now. Wade demanded pictures. Red told him to get fucked. They resettled into the routine.

Spidey stopped trying to figure them out and had since decided to treat them like embarrassing siblings. Red and Wade conspired to have some fun with this via escalating flirting.

“Hey now, why don’t you come over here and lay one of them pretty little hands on me,” Wade crooned to Red over a pile of drug traffickers. Red’s fists were just a tad smeared with blood. Just a little drippy.

“Darling, you know, I’ve already got me a man,” Red tittered right back.

“He don’t gotta know,” Wade replied in his lowest, gravelliest voice.

“Please stop. People are bleeding,” Spidey moaned, shoving his hands over his ears.

“I couldn’t possibly,” Red said over him.

The sirens turned the corner. Red gave them a devilish grin and a wave and took off.

“Thank god,” Spidey breathed and leapt off towards Queens.

Wade went home to add the nights’ events to his flow-chart to figure out which of those two motherfuckers was going to turn on him next.

 

 

 

 


End file.
